


Presupunere

by Totheark0



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Feels, Fingerfucking, M/M, Smut, Trevor's Dirty Mouth, smut with feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 01:39:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17255198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totheark0/pseuds/Totheark0
Summary: Poor decision making, with better than average results.





	Presupunere

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so I've been neglecting my other Castlevania fic, and my writing in general, and I think I just needed this out of my system.
> 
> *crosses fingers*
> 
> If any commenters can think of more tags for this, please let me know. I can't tag to save my own life.
> 
> Also, this was supposed to be short. Loling at myself.
> 
> Happy New Year!

“I have done this before, you know, you can hurry the hell _up_ already.”

Trevor grits his teeth and drums the heel of one foot on the wooden slats beneath him in restless agony, fidgeting as Alucard uses the two slender fingers up his arse to slowly, painstakingly, torturously work him open. He tries to quiet the spastic flexing of the muscles in his thighs and abdomen but fails spectacularly, his every exhale a low seething growl, urgent and short of breath and grasping at the scant remains of his composure.

“As impatient as ever,” Alucard says, sending a brief smirk toward Trevor's face, still taking his sweet time, his fingers and Trevor's arse crack coated in a copious volume of what he assumes is almond oil, based on the pungent aroma.

Trevor has never in his recollection had a sex partner put in so much damned effort, as Alucard is right now. The dhampir’s face is a mask of concentration, bottom lip between his teeth and eyes roving the breadth of the body splayed under him. He alternates thrusting and spreading his fingers to stretch him, tuned into Trevor's every reaction like he's some kind of challenging puzzle needing to be solved.

Kneeling between Trevor's bent legs with one hand braced to his left, he pulls out just long enough to carefully add a third finger beside the others, and Trevor feels the glorious burn of the intrusion but knows he can take more, needs more this very instant. It seems like weeks that Alucard has been preparing him, sweat rising endlessly over his flushed skin and now trickling down the back of his neck, the brisk evening air held at bay by the cloud of heat surrounding them.

“I'm not being impatient, you're drawing this out,” Trevor complains, dropping his head back onto the bundle of clothing Alucard insisted he use as a pillow. “Get the fuck on with it. I'm ready.”

“You are, but you could be more so.” Alucard changes the angle of his fingers ever so slightly and crooks them, swiping in a narrow arc against a spot inside him that makes his vision white out halfway and sends rippling waves of warm pleasure rolling through his belly. Gooseflesh that has nothing to do with the ambient temperature spreads across the whole surface of his skin, unquellable tremors racing through him in its wake.

And Trevor thought he was rock hard before. Now the situation is hardly tenable. His hands fist at his sides, and he's praying for patience, a virtue he honestly can't scrape together the barest ounce of, even at the best of times.

Alucard curls his fingers again, and now Trevor's certain no one has ever touched him here before, at least not so deliberately.

“Oh, fuck,” he pants, winded, and swallows thickly. “What _is_ that? I don't-” An unbidden and embarrassing groan of desperation falls from his lips when Alucard precisely targets the sensitive area and starts massaging it with a warrior’s determination, gentle but repetitive and unrelenting.

“Shh. You'll wake her. And I thought you said you've done this before.” There’s a note of mirthful pride in Alucard's voice, and Trevor can clearly hear the cheeky smile in it. He sounds more pleased with himself than concerned over disturbing their companion, asleep and oblivious before the campfire a mere five meters from the wagon.

“I _have_.” Trevor's shifts his legs all around in agitation, before he opens them wider and plants his feet, lifting his hips to give Alucard better access to that sweet spot. He wrestles with the conflicting signals his own body sends him, eager and greedy and demanding for more but his nerve endings torn to pieces, shattered by the unprecedented overload of sensation.

“Hmm… it would seem you have never been with a lover who took proper care of you, then.” Alucard adjusts his weight to drag thankfully short fingernails down through the coarse smattering of dark hair over Trevor's broad chest. The gesture is one of reverent exploration, like he’s mapping texture and topography and committing them to his memory. He reaches the area just below Trevor's navel and brings his free hand back up again, searching, then presses the flat of his thumb to one nipple before flicking it roughly a few times, earning a quiet hiss from Trevor.

“Yeah, well.” He pauses a second to forcefully push air out his nose and make room for his next breath. “I never cared much for them or they for me. Just looking to blow off some steam.” He's staring up at the wagon’s cover, panting like a wounded dog, hearing the ridiculous thready hitching in his own voice, and thinking how this plodding, tedious, maddening encounter is sure as hell not the sloppy catharsis of pent-up energy he sought Alucard out for earlier in the evening.

“Clearly you've lain with men before. Have there been women as well?” Oh, bloody hell. God save me, Trevor thinks.

“Some of both, _Jesus_. What's with the fucking inquisition?” Trevor just wanted a quick nightcap of a romp in the back of the wagon, and now he starts to wonder if perhaps he’s gotten more than he bargained for. That's what happens when there's not a drop of alcohol for leagues in any direction, he thinks woefully, and the only other interested body nearby is that of this smarmy, conniving, evil spawn of Satan.

“And your first time?” Alucard asks, ignoring Trevor's own question, as if this is a decent venue to be having this conversation, as if he's not steadily fucking Trevor's arse with his fingers and stringing him out within an inch of his life. “When was that?”

Trevor groans in abject frustration. “I don't _know_ , fucking hell! A long time ago. First year on my own, I guess.” And how the fuck did Alucard manage to get him talking about this? Especially given the context of their activities, the position he has Trevor in, it feels like he's taking advantage, and somewhere deep down Trevor has to give him some credit for his cunning. Now Alucard is fingering him _casually_ , almost as if he's occupied by some menial task, cleaning his sword or kindling a fire. But these are things the dhampir would undertake with an air of focused diligence anyway, like with everything he does, so Trevor still feels oddly looked after under such practiced attention.

He can't quite decide what to think about that.

“And how old were you, back then?” Trevor despises how fucking relentless this prick is with these questions about his sexual history. It's beyond invasive, and admittedly unnerving. He wonders if Alucard agreed to this tryst at least partially to extract such deeply personal information from him, but the son of a bitch is slowing his movements, and Trevor forces himself to answer, so far past the point of caring.

He sighs, defeated and resigned and trying to think of the precise number, and tells him, “Thirteen. Fourteen. Something like that.” Now the fingers have slackened their interminable devilry even further. God damn him. “Maybe twelve,” Trevor can't believe himself admitting, but he feels lightheaded and weirdly feverish. Thoughts take form in his mind, but trying to grab ahold of them is like swimming through mud, and words escape him without much forethought. “Who remembers that sort of thing?” He tries to force a note of humor in toward the end, but it comes out with a bitter edge that sounds dark and caustic, even to Trevor's own ears.

He meets Alucard's eyes, honey-colored, he notes for the first time ever, he's always thought them a garish yellow, and the demon is staring up at his face with a look of- Trevor doesn't even know what, but his gaze is loaded down with some weighty bullshit sentiment, and Trevor is having none of it.

It's like a punch to the gut to realize how fast this has all begun to unravel.

“If you stop,” he grits out, approaching livid. “I swear to God I’ll kill you ten times over, now _just_ fuck me, you miserable vampire bastard!” His ancestors are alligator rolling in their graves following this unspeakably disgraceful breathless entreaty from the sole heir to their legendary hunter dynasty, and Trevor bears down on Alucard's fingers, craving stimulation, almost ready to be fucking done with this and go find some big tree to wank off behind.

But if he's really, truly honest with himself, he knows there's no way he can possibly leave. The whole vexing debacle has already buried him far too deeply under oppressive layers of his own bottomless yearning. To pull himself out of it is unthinkable, and he curses the knowledge that he’s helpless to do anything but see it through to whatever end.

Alucard's face hardens a little, eyes flashing with annoyance, but Trevor doesn't miss the look of steadfast resolve surfacing alongside it. “I should have known you'd be as mouthy a bedfellow as you are during a fight,” he tells Trevor, leaning forward over him, knocking one knee to the side, spreading him further. He thrusts his fingers in deep, with more of an impact this time, with gumption, with power, intentionally causing more than just a hint of pain with the force of it, and Trevor swoons in sheer delight at the highly anticipated gratification.

He’s fucking starving for it.

The tempo now is merciless and each thrust sends a new tide of incandescent pleasure rolling through him. He's smoldering with the ascension of it, choking from the leaden coil in his gut, winding tighter, glowing hotter, burning brighter every time Alucard pulls near fully out and slams back in again. He’s not particularly targeting that elusive spot any longer, but the ruthless percussion is enough to leave Trevor's mind feeling scrambled, incapacitated, unable to formulate a sentence to save his life. His mouth falls open, eyes clenched shut, and it's all he can do to limit the pitch and volume of the countless sonorous exclamations and unintelligible half-words that pour out of him with each assertive drive of those skillful digits.

Everything he carries with him for protection, his clothing, his weapons, his booze-soaked reasoning, his uncaring facade, all are now methodically stripped away in this moment, by the fateful circumstances, by this dastardly persecutor, but mostly by his own damned libido, as much chagrin as that will undoubtedly cause him later on.

Now he's aware only of the brisk rhythm and the feeling of euphoric mindlessness it fetters him with. All that oil he thought unnecessary in its quantity is doing wonders to ease the way, allowing Alucard to ram him with impunity. The long-awaited actualization sweeps Trevor right back up into throes of fervorous intensity as if the whole bloody interrogation never even happened, and he thanks the heavens Alucard was willing to drop it.

Now he's being downright rough with Trevor, not careless, but boldly authoritative, almost punishing with the impetus of his ministrations. With enormous effort Trevor cracks his eyes open, only the barest sliver, but it's enough to take in the sight of Alucard, the dhampir’s attention riveted to his face, and when their eyes meet Trevor is instantly transfixed. His thrall has nothing to do with the seductive vampiric powers of old and everything to do with the depth of convoluted meaning volleying between them as Alucard deftly pummels him from the inside. A few locks of hair fall in exquisite platinum waves to partially obscure his face, but Trevor never loses his eyes.

The connection between them is electrifying, like he’s striking Trevor with lightning at his very fingertips, his gaze sharp and his expression heavy with so many unreadable thoughts that Trevor knows his mind must be racing through them at a rapid clip. He can't discern them but it's like he can sense them, Alucard’s feelings embedding themselves in his own psyche, transferred to him purely through the line of energy attaching them, fastened between their locked eyes on either end.

It's all too much for Trevor, who by now is trying to cope with a turgid cock that is leaking and twitching and feels like it’s probably redder and more engorged than he ever thought it could be. Unable to resist, he moves to take himself in hand and grant himself some much needed relief, only to have his wrist cruelly batted away. Alucard clicks his tongue against his teeth, disapproval evident in the narrowing of those shrewd golden eyes. “I will take care of that, Belmont,” he scolds, sounding almost offended at Trevor's impudence.

“Touch me then, Fangs,” he hisses angrily, feeling positively nasty with desperation, and before he can think anything else Alucard obliges him, wrapping surprisingly warm fingers around Trevor's length, sliding up toward the end with sublime friction and sweeping a firm thumb over his weeping head, all of which has Trevor biting down hard on his fist, breaking the skin and tasting blood well up through his teeth, trying in vain to keep the lurid sounds at bay.

Alucard relents a little, taking Trevor more thoroughly in hand, slowing the brutal cadence of the penetration to something more sedate, and Trevor comes floating back down to himself to a modest degree. Competent hands caress him with devotion, inside and out, but the effect is deplorably static. It's not enough to bring him any closer to completion. His heart is trying to beat its way right out the front of his chest. Alucard again works his thumb over the slippery head, pulling back the hood, toying idly with the slit, and Trevor breaks.

“Alucard,” he breathes, shamelessly imploring the dhampir with his tone and with his pleading eyes. “If you aren't inside me within the next ten seconds I'm going to lose my fucking mind.” And he's not exaggerating. He feels completely wrecked and knows he probably looks it too. He’s way past the end of his Goddamned rope.

All at once Alucard withdraws both his hands and Trevor outright sobs at the sudden loss, moaning around the knuckles of the fist that's found its way back to his mouth, no longer in any sort of control over his faculties.

Alucard slicks himself and Trevor realizes that although he's shirtless, the wide angry scar fully bared on his pale chest, his tight trousers are still on and riding halfway down his arse, his raging member out on full display. Straining heat blossoms under Trevor's skin as he takes in the considerable size of it, saliva flooding his mouth at the sight and forcing him to swallow. He has about a half second to think how unfair it is that he himself is completely nude before Alucard is hiking Trevor’s legs over his shoulders, lining himself up, his cock pressing temptingly against Trevor's slick and far too thoroughly prepared entrance.

“ _Fucking_ finally.”

Alucard seats himself quick and hard and has to muffle Trevor's throaty shout of pleasure by rushing up to meet his mouth and kissing him deeply, nipping briefly at his lips and plunging his tongue down against Trevor's to smother the sound. “I thought you might like that,” he says when he breaks away, the first hints of breathlessness in his eloquent voice and it shocks Trevor with inexplicable satisfaction, sending a corresponding jolt straight to his cock. “Tell me you like it.”

“Yes, _fuck_ yes,” Trevor groans. “I do.” He's still overcome by the thrill of being split open so decisively after all that fucking teasing. He cranes his head forward, blindly wanton, his lips searching for Alucard’s.

“Yes, you do, don't you?” Alucard is dropping wet kisses into Trevor's mouth, but he keeps pulling away before Trevor can deepen them. “You like it _rough_. You want to be pushed around. Manhandled.” He buries a hand in Trevor's hair and yanks it, forcing his head back and eliciting a strangled gasp at the sudden punitive gesture. The twinges at his scalp transmit sparks of dangerous excitement that course all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Golden hair falls in a curtain to frame Trevor's face with tickling softness. Alucard’s tongue invades his open mouth, the heady feeling of its wet slide against his own ramping his excitement ever higher. Pinned to the floor by the strong hand in his hair and the crushing pressure over his lips, he grinds down on Alucard’s cock, willing him to move. The dhampir grunts but doesn't comply and the kiss grows heavier, more dominant, a plaintive keening sound wrenched from low in Trevor's chest at the escalation.

When Alucard finally starts to move his hips, it's only just barely, and Trevor feels like he could scream. But then something shifts and suddenly he’s rubbing the bulbous head of his cock back and forth across Trevor's sweet spot with every subtle thrust, saturating his body with a raw tingling pleasure that spreads outward all the way through him to curl in his gut, numbing his toes, settling heavily in his aching stones.

“Oh _fuck_ , how are you doing that?” His head turns to the side, lips parting from Alucard's, feeling those long fingers gentle their hold on his hair. His every word is carried on a cracked moan or stuttering gasp, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch enough air.

He hears a soft chuckle in his ear before the weight is lifting off him. Alucard straightens to take ahold of his thighs, sliding sturdy palms down sweat-slicked skin until he's firmly grasping Trevor's hips in both hands, fingertips pressed lightly into the muscular curve of his arse.

“Look at me,” Alucard commands, and Trevor looks at him.

His eyes light on the dhampir’s face, and what he finds there promptly steals his breath. The imposing shadowed visage is a stunning tapestry of blatant hunger, of captivating promise, with hints of something deeper, an expression of something raw and perhaps even vulnerable in the slanting lines of Alucard’s brow, the febrile glint in his eyes, the rigid set of his jaw.

Trevor doesn't think he could look away even if his life depended on it.

The image stirs a carnal exhilaration in his chest, and out of nowhere he wants everything that is this creature before him, wants to kneel at his feet and soak up every scrap of undeserved mercy offered, wants to beg for salvation if that's what Alucard desires.

He’s never felt this way before. Didn't know he could feel this way. Never would have imagined his own subjugation could be so fucking incredible.

Alucard is still rolling his hips into Trevor with admirable restraint, his pace moderate and controlled, dragging his cockhead repeatedly over that intimate place that has become the center of Trevor's being, his very existence. The inundation is at once ruinous and intoxicating.

He tries to touch his own cock again with little awareness and zero conscious intent and Alucard snatches up both his wrists, holding them down against the floor on either side of him. Trevor lifts his head and bares his teeth at the dhampir, out of control, the sound he makes something between a whine and a battle cry. It's half aggression and half beseeching submission, and soon it dissolves into a colorful string of slurred obscenities.

Alucard returns his hands to Trevor's hips and digs his fingers in, lifting him by the crest of his pelvis, and then he unceremoniously slams Trevor down onto his cock. “You are even more vulgar when you’re drunk with pleasure. I didn't think that was possible.”

He starts fucking Trevor properly now, each fluid thrust powerful but measured, the regular slapping sound of skin on skin permeating the wagon. The firelight behind Alucard throws an igneous halo around his regal frame, his hair appearing molten in its white-orange glow, the resulting aesthetic so compelling Trevor thinks he's never looked so much like something more than human.

All at once it hits him that Alucard is using his powers of weightlessness to take the slightest pressure off them and support each steady snap of his hips. This realization combined with the sensation of being reamed so excellently has Trevor spewing another bout of crude profanity, unsure of the specific words he's using to express his sense of rapture.

“Does that arouse you, Belmont? Foul language? Dirty talk? I’ll bet it does, you being the coarse and roguish sort of character that you are.” Alucard’s voice hints at his exertion but still sounds level and steady for the most part, which drives Trevor insane, as does the hint of taunting chastisement.

Alucard once again takes ahold of Trevor's hands, which have been inching their way back toward his neglected cock, and moves his wrists together above his head to keep them there with only one hand of his own. He changes the angle slightly and now he's ramming that sweet spot with each forceful slide of his impressive girth.

He leans forward and traces conspicuously blunt canines over the side of Trevor's neck, then starts biting aggressively, but with the force of a lover, not a predator, chaste but with dragging teeth, nipping here and there at random. His mouth finds the jut of a collarbone, the arch of an ear, the vulnerable skin over one jugular. It's almost playful, irksome nibbling, the feeling strange and overstimulating enough that Trevor instinctively tries to protect himself by shrugging his shoulder up to meet his neck.

“Aah, you arsehole-” Whatever Trevor was going to say is cut short as oily fingers fist around his length and start to pump him with dedication. It’s not as slow or teasing as before but it's not enough to stop Trevor trying to thrust frantically into Alucard's hand, barely even conscious he’s doing it. He's barely conscious of much of anything going on around him. His mind has narrowed down to the connection between two concentrated points of pleasure, ratcheting back and forth and bringing him closer to becoming undone.

His inhibitions have fled him, and he's greedily trying to maximize contact from both his cock and his arse at the same time, feeling thoroughly bound by the futility of his efforts. He writhes and trembles and fails to suppress the mortifying reedy noises rising from the back of his throat. He tries to silence them with his hands but finds they're still effortlessly held to the floor above his head.

Trevor knows he can't hold out much longer.

His attention has centered on the vision of Alucard, who’s now studying him with such unbelievably rapt fascination. “Are you close, Belmont?” he asks, his eyes darting between Trevor's face, his clenching abdomen, his tightening stones, and back up to his face, stroking him with just a bit more vigor. His thrusts have lost some of their elegance, his voice finally carrying vague notes of breathlessness, but he's only perspiring mildly while Trevor's absolutely drenched, fighting for meager whisps of breath, sweaty clumps of hair sticking to his brow.

His eyelids are fluttering and he's moaning helplessly, feeling the sanguine flush swelter and spread under his skin, and he manages to string together the gasping plea, “Call me… call me my given name.”

Alucard doesn't miss a beat but lets loose a soft gasp of his own before he bows his head and speaks right into Trevor's ear, something between a growl and a purr, “Come for me, Trevor.”

And Trevor does.

He rides through his climax with his toes curled, mouth hanging open, sounds swallowed by Alucard’s tongue down his throat. His core muscles clench down so hard it would be painful if not for the undulating pleasure rolling through his loins and lower abdomen. A diligent hand moves steadily over his cock, and he pulsates a frankly absurd number of times, each shot punctuated by a fresh wave of blinding sensation, Alucard groaning openly as Trevor involuntarily tightens around him with every ripping burst.

Once Trevor is spent, muscles still jumping, gradually coming down from his blissful reverie, the strength of Alucard's thrusts crosses just over the line into superhuman. He starts drilling Trevor with abandon, releasing his cock and wrists in favor of using both hands on his waist to leverage himself deeper, fucking him even harder. Trevor sighs, beyond satiated, loving every encompassing second of it, galvanized by each branching tingle of stimulation, every sensation amplified by his climax and by Alucard's evident loss of self-restraint, his wild ardor, his raw might.

The dhampir is panting, his features slack with pleasure, his face an open book of ecstasy. Trevor marvels at it, Alucard always being so composed, even in this act so far, until now, when he's bending Trevor nearly in half in his enthusiasm. His nails and fangs are longer and sharper, not by much but clearly visible, both glinting in the firelight, and Trevor is mildly disturbed to find it’s more thrilling than it is terrifying. Sweat-tipped tendrils of golden hair sway and bounce with Alucard's every movement, and Trevor is briefly mesmerized by the sight.

He's been fucked after coming before, more than once in his life, but he never knew it could feel so bloody amazing. He locks his arms around Alucard’s upper back and heaves him closer, fingernails denting flawless pale skin. “Come on, fuck me harder,” he growls into one faintly pointed ear, breath rushing through a wolfish grin, and Alucard complies, pounding him into the wooden floor. “Give me your worst,” he goads, feeling even more brazen than usual, snaking an arm downward to grab onto one of Alucard's arse cheeks, squeezing hard and dragging his pelvis closer with each thrust. The tips of Trevor's fingers dip into Alucard's sweaty crack, and he revels in the damp and natural and messy humanity of the dhampir’s perspiration.

“Now you say my name.” The demand is carried on a hushed moan, Alucard's voice so low it's hardly recognizable, and it’s obvious to Trevor that he's very close.

“Alucard,” he offers. The insistent, needy tug at his hair has him breathing, “Adrian,” and he's shivering from the significance of what's just passed between them.

Grunting and groaning almost like an animal, Alucard fucks him until completion a few seconds later, biting down on his shoulder but barely breaking skin, more like holding onto him with his teeth, as if two bruising hands on Trevor simply aren't enough, grinding the remnants of his release deep inside him. Trevor finds himself still just basking in the wondrous debauchery.

For a soft, quiet moment, everything goes limp and sated, and they are purely together.

Sounds come drifting back. The crackling of the campfire. The chirping of insects. The deafening harmony of their labored breathing.

Trevor is still coming down as Alucard pulls out of him. He's shaking all over, trying to steady his respirations, ruefully asking himself how he can ever possibly be satisfied by anyone else after all this. Exhausted and suddenly overwhelmed, he flips onto his side, turning away from the dhampir.

Alucard has ruined him, the bastard.

Said bastard lazily drapes an arm over his waist, and Trevor feels warm lips start to slowly pepper kisses up the length his neck, the tip of a nose nuzzling the spot behind his ear, soft puffs of breath ruffling his hair with the occasional rumbling murmur of affection. It feels strange, and wonderful, and yet awful for some reason Trevor can't quite nail down. He's unused to such tenderness, that's for certain.

Sex is supposed to be about physical relief. A reprieve from a dismal reality. A chance to release pressure. There's never been any emotion or attachment involved, and the barest hint of either has always sent him running for the hills. He pushes down a spike of panic upon realizing that with Alucard, running away is not a viable option. His own choices have left behind the sour taste of self-loathing in his mouth, along with a generous side helping of bitter regret.

It's enough to make him feel sick to his stomach.

But after all, it's not like he’s never lain next to a bedmate before, sharing his space with another during the afterglow. There's nothing groundbreaking about Alucard covering Trevor's hand with his own, or wedging one knee between Trevor's thighs from behind, or hesitantly tucking his chin over Trevor's shoulder. These thoughts, based in faraway rationality, don't do a single thing to stop Trevor's rising discomfort.

It's like something's been knocked loose by all of this, by the intrusive questioning, by his delayed release, maybe even by his cursed sobriety to a certain extent. He recalls asking Alucard to use his given name, and his flush returns with a vengeance, this time resulting from the unpleasant burn of shame. He doesn't know what came over him, making such an intimate plea to anyone, let alone a half-vampire. He wants to kick Alucard away from him, wants to lash out against the amorous embrace in frustration at his own lamentable fucking weakness.

“You don't have to do that,” he says instead, careful to keep the waver out of his voice. He wants to say something more, about this not being his first time again, or that he's not some fragile maiden, or some similar deflection, but by now there's a painful lump in his throat he can't seem to swallow past. The arm around him and the warmth at his back are starting to border on suffocating.

It hits him that he's never felt so attended to, so _cared for_ , so protected and, God help him, _safe_ , not since he lived his young life as a noble, with all its associated luxury and servantry, not since he had cousins and sisters doting on his every childish whim, not since his mother and father were still alive, sparing their children any and all free time not occupied by their duties to the clan.

And this partner he's chosen to lie with is just as much demon as not. What a fantastic way to honor their memory.

“Oh, but I insist,” Alucard mumbles, continuing to mouth gently at the space where Trevor’s neck meets his shoulder, using just the hint of tongue to taste the salt on his skin, wrapping the arm tighter around him, drawing him in even closer. It’s confounding to Trevor how he can feel so content and so smothered all at the same time, and he will never be able to explain the horrifying moment of confusion when the telltale sting of tears prickles behind his eyes, and he has to blink furiously to keep them from filling. When those wandering lips press a fond kiss to his temple, the feeling culminates, it's too much, and Trevor snaps.

He pushes Alucard away, first with an elbow and then with both palms on his chest, a little too roughly, with a hissed, “I said back _off_ , Fangs,” and now he finally has enough space to breathe.

There's a charged moment between them as Trevor takes in Alucard's candid look of surprise. It seems almost like Trevor has slapped him, his jaw slack and his eyes wide open, expressive for just that fraction of a second before he schools his features. Trevor turns away again, but that sucker-punched expression has already burned itself into his mind. “I'm going to sleep,” he forces himself to say, trying so very hard not to think about how foolish he’s been.

Alucard says nothing, and before long there come the sounds of him calmly retreating from his spot next to Trevor, the rustle of clothing as he dresses himself, the faintest creak of the wagon’s axles as he moves to sit in the forward seat, leaving Trevor alone in the back.

He just lies there for a minute, his breath finally starting to settle to a reasonable cadence, but the trembling won't die down. The cold has become an issue, now that he's naked and still and unaccompanied, perspiration cooling and drying on his skin and taking his heat along with it. He reaches an arm out to grab the nearest article of clothing, luckily his trousers, and begins dressing himself, not even bothering to rise from his prone position. His tunic is a little damp from its time balled up under his sweaty head. He tries to be annoyed with Alucard about it, really he does, but he can't seem to arouse the feelings of disdain that typically come so easily whenever the dhampir is involved.

Fully clothed again, Trevor is more comfortable, but he can't escape the sense of cold. The shivering has diminished, but it's still there, stubborn little tremors of tension he can't manage to suppress. He still sees Alucard’s face after he pushed him away, even when he closes his eyes. He very seriously considers just going to sleep and pretending none of this ever happened, but he fears that look of shock will haunt him in his dreams.

And then, he makes the condemning mistake of sneaking a glance at Alucard, because of course he does.

The dhampir sits almost perfectly motionless, head tilted up toward the sky, his back to Trevor. Here he is lit more by the moon than by the fire, and Trevor finally has to admit, if only to himself, how truly beautiful Alucard is. The moonlight turns his hair a glowing silver, his pale skin highlighted under the bright canopy of stars. The lines of his silhouette betray the lithe and elegant frame concealed underneath. The intermittent rise and fall of his torso speaks of the swift return to his resting breath rate. It's easier to look at Alucard when he's not looking back, and after his first peek Trevor can't take his eyes away.

The image looks like a bloody painting.

It's hard to discern because Alucard embodies poise and subtlety, but Trevor can tell he's dejected. It’s evident in the slight hunch of his shoulders, his excessive stillness, his unwavering stare. Trevor can imagine what that stare might look like, even if he can’t see his eyes. He feels drawn to Alucard, out of nowhere, and suddenly he has to see those golden eyes, has to talk to him, has to say _something_.

Trevor still feels ashamed, but now for an entirely different reason.

He rises in a bit of a daze and clambers over the back of the seat, a whole lot less gracefully than Alucard, with much more accompanying squeaking from the wagon. He sits to his right, draping his arms casually on the seat back, elbows hanging over it on either side, resting his fingers as close as he dares to where Alucard’s coat covers his shoulder. The dhampir doesn't respond except to cross his arms over his chest.

“Come on, don't sulk.”

“I'm not _sulking_ ,” comes the immediate defensive reply, Alucard turning narrowed eyes on him. For a second Trevor meets his gaze dead on, before Alucard breaks their eye contact and looks up to the moon again. “I'm thinking,” he says, his voice back to its standard tranquil monotone.

“Right.” Trevor chews his lower lip for a moment. “I just needed a minute,” he blurts out.

“I know,” Alucard responds just as quickly, and then they both fall silent, both looking at the moon and not at each other, both shifting a bit in discomfort, the quiet a little uneasy and a little companionable. “It doesn't sit well, thinking you might see this as a mistake,” Alucard says eventually, and once he starts the words leave him in a rush. “What we shared changes nothing about our mission, and I hope you know I won't be treating you any differently.” His words grant Trevor a huge wave of relief with only the tiniest irrational trace of disappointment he's happy to ignore.

“Well don't expect any special treatment from me either. You're still a self-righteous dick,” Trevor tells him, letting the warmth he feels color his tone. Alucard laughs, and Trevor joins him, and when they taper away the silence now is all comfort and no awkwardness. “So you, ah…” Trevor trails off, trying to find the right words. “You seemed to know a bit about what you were doing.” He tries to say it casually, knowing it's such a grand understatement. “Have you fucked a lot of men?” The question is more than fair considering everything he's already revealed about his own experience, and Trevor can't deny his curiosity.

Alucard doesn't answer right away, and in retrospect, Trevor will realize this in and of itself should be telling.

“I'd really rather not say,” he finally demurs, looking anywhere but Trevor's face, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his lap, folding his hands between his knees. Trevor feels the beginnings of irritation at the dhampir’s hypocrisy, but something seems off, like there’s some clue he's not deciphering, something about the way Alucard has suddenly become so standoffish, so tense, so uncomfortable...

No. Fucking. Way.

“You're a-”

“Don't say it.”

“- _virgin_.”

There’s a pregnant pause while the word looms heavily in the air between them.

“Well,” Alucard sighs. “Not anymore.” He keeps his tone light and neutral, but it does nothing to help alleviate Trevor's inner turmoil.

The emotions hit him like a rapid series of uppercuts. “But if-” Shock. “How can-” Disbelief. “Have you-” Guilt, and that takes him right down the road to denial. “How did you know how to do all that?” He punctuates his question with a wild gesture toward the back of the wagon.

This doesn't make any sense.

“I learn quickly.”

“Bullshit.”

“I pay attention.” Trevor says nothing, still not buying it. “I read.” Alucard finally chances a furtive glance at his face, and Trevor knows his skepticism is as plain as day. “A lot.” Now Alucard is actually blushing faintly, and if that isn't the most endearing thing Trevor's ever seen in his life… it's enough to make him disregard the lackluster explanation.

He’s still reeling, still unaccountably remorseful, and he’s determined to make nice in his own way. He is the one who propositioned Alucard in the first place, never guessing at the truth, frankly assuming the opposite. He’s astounded, and impressed, and still can't quite believe how experienced Alucard seemed to be.

It was the most amazing sex of Trevor's life, after all.

He braves the distance between them, sliding his arm off the seat back to take ahold of Alucard's right hand. He lifts the wrist to his mouth and presses his lips to the inside of it, feeling the quickening pulse through warm skin, eyes meeting Alucard’s, trying to tell him with this gesture everything he can't say aloud. The tentative hope on Alucard's face makes him look incredibly young, sending a jolt of protectiveness straight through Trevor's heart, and he feels the unfamiliar desire to show even heavier affection.

With a gentle but insistent tug, he pulls Alucard off balance, startling a quiet huff out of the dhampir, and gathers his head into his lap, his fingers finding their way into the silken mane spread out under him.

“I won't try to pull the wool over your eyes. That was fucking incredible,” Trevor admits. Alucard smiles up at him, flashing just the hint of sharp canines, and Trevor loves to see the joyous expression but pretends he doesn't. “Just don't let it go to your head, you're vain enough as it is.” The grin turns positively impish, and Trevor finally returns it. After a few long amiable moments of just staring into each other’s eyes, Trevor has to ask, “Why did you agree?”

Alucard's eyes slip away from his to land on the stars above, and Trevor can see the moon perfectly reflected in their depths. “In a few days' time we will face my father, if all goes according to plan. There is enough of a chance I will not survive that I thought it appropriate to fulfill this life experience.” The answer is so insanely pragmatic that Trevor has to laugh again, the bubble of adoration for this strange creature swelling so large in his chest he fears it might explode.

He doesn't mention how Alucard could bed nearly anyone he desires. He could have fulfilled this _life experience_ in Gresit, or any other town for that matter. Trevor doesn't ask, ‘Why me?’

He loathes to think he might give the dhampir any ideas.

Alucard meets his eyes again. “The fact that you're the most stunning man I've ever seen probably didn't hurt your case, either,” he says, blunt and straight-faced, and now it's Trevor's turn to sport a cocky smirk. Alucard lightly cuffs him over the ear and shoots him a cross look. “Your head is also fat enough already, Trevor.”

Trevor pulls a mock wounded expression, but inside he's totally elated. He would be disgusted at how giddy he feels if he weren't too damn happy to care.

They're both fully clothed, and Alucard called him Trevor. Not Belmont. Trevor.

So much for nothing changing between them. It should provoke concern over the implications. It should bother him. Instead, it does the opposite.

It's sickening how good this feeling is. It's invigorating, jubilating, hedonistic madness, and the pout on his face melts back into a grin completely against his will.

Come on, Belmont, you lovesick fool, he tells himself. Keep it the fuck together.

“Well,” he says, both his hands now buried in Alucard's hair, thumbs framing either side of his face. “I approve of your solution.” He falls just short of saying it's an honor, but he can't help if that's what it feels like.

Trevor bows his head low and kisses the dhampir.

“As happy as I am to hear the two of you have settled your differences…” Trevor has just barely brought his tongue into the mix when Sypha’s voice carries across the campsite. Both he and Alucard freeze, wide eyes staring at each other in shared horror. “...you've lost your damn minds if you think I could have possibly slept through all of that.” Trevor pulls his mouth away from Alucard’s with a chastened wince. “I think we need to have a serious discussion about _stealth_!” she hollers.

Trevor and Alucard look at each other a moment more before simultaneously bursting into uproarious laughter, both shaking with merriment at the hilarity of the situation, Trevor tipping his head forward to rest his brow against Alucard's.

“Go the fuck to sleep, you sex-crazed heathens!”

Trevor and Alucard sit there together and laugh until there are tears streaming down both their faces.

The dawn isn't too many hours off, and tomorrow will bring untold danger, as will the next day, and the day after that. But it is such a merciful comfort to know, here and now, that no matter what happens, none of them will have to face it alone.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is the Romanian term for "assumption," or "to assume".
> 
> Comments or questions welcome!


End file.
